three
by easy love
Summary: If it was just one night of fading stars and loud music, with him—she'd do it all over again. Because alcoholic breaths and lungs filled with nicotine never did stop those close touches and almost kisses – and neither did his girlfriend. (three-parter, auslly)
1. catalyst

_three_

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><p><strong>Summary: <strong>If it was just one night of fading stars and loud music, with him—she'd do it all over again. Because alcoholic breaths and lungs filled with nicotine never did stop those close touches and almost kisses – _and neither did his girlfriend_. (three-parter, auslly)

**Prompt: **I went to a house party one Friday night and my God was it different from the world I'm so used to. None of these things happened, but the atmosphere really did inspire a lot of it.

**A/N:** This was supposed to be a one-shot, you know—I had no plot I just wanted to write a fanfiction and then post it up. But as I went on writing this, the plot literally took a 360 turn to wherever it's going and I'm like screw it—Ally needs her happy ending. So it's a three-parter. Enjoy this mess and if you can, drop a review and make someone's day :D

**Disclaimer: **Don't own anything at all :)

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><p><strong>catalyst; <strong>

She likes looking at things from a distance. Friends, she never really had any – just a few acquaintances and hellos and goodbyes down the hallways. Guys she liked, she'd never really gotten close to them – only watching from afar and admiring those beautiful smiles and gleaming eyes. But somehow, he's different.

Never really saw herself falling for a guy like him – the guy on the other side with all the girls and the lifestyle that would put Jay Gatsby to shame – Ally questions what it was about the way they touched that had such a paralytic effect on her. Yes, of course—his smile is the best thing to ever happen in the world of mankind – _everybody knows that_ – and his eyes are just as charming as _everyone_ says. But, is that all it really took for her to _crush on him_ for two years? Definitely _not_.

They're friends – she supposes – but being close to him, every single day of her life—it's a little overwhelming. And sometimes, being too close to him, burns her skin and it's a little bit confusing – and somehow—_it's addicting_. And every now and then, she needs a little more than just a brush of the hand, and accidental bumps across the hallway.

She doesn't know when it started. Maybe it was the way his gentleman hands led her out of a growing crowd amongst the lockers, or the small side hug they shared when she did something nice for him. She can't pinpoint the exact moment his touches became vital to her very existence. But if there ever is a time moments like those echoed her lusty desire for him, it would be _that_ Friday night.

If it was just one night of fading stars and loud music, with him—she'd do it all over again. Because alcoholic breaths and lungs filled with nicotine never did stop those close touches and almost kisses – _and neither did his girlfriend_. Who was she to blame if she was out of it, and they couldn't control their hands, their lips, and the electricity that shot through their veins?

It's Friday night and the year starts off with a house party of spilled drinks and smoking weed. Tangled with classmates influenced by the addiction to all the Vodka in the world, she finds herself sitting at the very corner of the living room, _Salute_ by Little Mix blasting loud against the speakers. She sees him all bright smiles and shining eyes, the most beautiful boy in the whole entire room. There's a bottle of cool Iced Smirnoff in one hand, and her phone on the other. She thinks she'll get through the night of him and his girlfriend acting like girlfriends and boyfriends, if she has the placebo to forget.

She's not a lightweight—she damn well knows that. On the day of her eighteenth birthday, she went wild and it took her six shots of strong tequila to have the room spinning and her walking in circles. But for some reason, right now, just one sip of the Smirnoff is getting her high. Maybe it's the hunger that festers within her, or the fact Elliot Carson was the in charge bartender for the night and he may or may not have spiked her drink with strong liquor. She doesn't know which one is it, but one thing she's sure of is, the room is swaying and she wants to laugh and cry for no goddamn reason at all.

"Is Ally drunk?"

Someone comments, but all there is to it is white noise and blurry faces—and she _giggles_. Somehow, everyone is surrounding her, amused smiles and grinning eyes, enjoying her out of it state. And he's there with dilated eyes of surprise and a small smirk curved up his lips. She wants to touch him but she resists – because drunk or not, she's not stupid.

"Hey, are you okay?"

A blonde girl sits beside her, a sweet smile on and lovely brown eyes. She pats Ally's knees, tidbits of concern laced through her tone as she tries to snap Ally out of her small daze.

"Do you need anything?"

"Um..."

"Do you need water?"

"How do you stop being drunk?"

Ally slurs a little, stars clouding her vision, and Austin tipped at the corner of her eye.

"You need water, I'll get you one."

"Thank you, Piper?"

"Don't worry about it."

She's left on the couch again, by herself, confused and slipping from sobriety. The closest to friends she has, Desmond Wade and Patricia dela Rosa, all came up and surrounded her again, clicking their fingers and calling her name. She smiles lazily at them and snapshots of her drunken state is recorded on their phones. He's coming her way, a soft grin on and hands in his pocket.

"Hey, is she drunk?"

"Obviously."

"It's not even nine o'clock."

"She's a lightweight."

"I'm not a lightweight!"

He turns to her, and in her hazy mind, she sees the smile on his face grow softer. She can't see his eyes widen or his eyebrows raise, but she feels him tap her shoulder, and sit beside her, a phone in hand. She doesn't know what's going on, but there's only two people right now in her world and that's him and her.

"Let's take this one."

It was all a little too fast. One moment she's sitting with him, questioning his motives as he leans in closer, and next thing she knows he's taking pictures of them two and posting them up on whatever social media site he's finding an obsession to. He smiles and leaves before she can question him, and his girlfriend, beautiful and blonde Piper, comes in with a bottle of water to help sober her up.

Everyone's being so nice to her. She doesn't know if it's anything to do with the fact that they're curious people and she's Alyssa May Dawson, the golden girl of Citadini High, getting drunk to her ass on a Friday night, or that they're just genuinely concerned. She reckons it's the former but she hardly has time to care when everything she sees is all in a kaleidoscopic distortion, and it doesn't help at all that the music is the psychedelic _Heart Out_ by The 1975.

"Ally!"

Strawberry blonde with fierce blue eyes, Cassidy Mitchell comes her way, a sly smile on and whispering red lips. Her irises blink in a suspicious charm, and she settles herself beside Ally, coming closer to her with manicured nails and temptation in the words she spoke.

"Austin Moon just told me to, _please take care of Ally—she's really drunk_."

Ally would've gasped. In fact, she would've extremely cared. But her mind is in so much of a daze that the lines are blurred and the only thing she hears is his name.

"What about Austin?"

Cassidy leaves it at that. She doesn't say anything more – just that question _hanging through the air_ and lingering in Ally's beating heart. And before she knows it, she sees him coming her way again. Except, he sits down on the other side of the couch, beer in hand, and eyes that barely glances her way. But she's half brave enough – because alcohol has it's side effects and _confidence_ was it's most dangerous one of all.

"Hey Austin."

She's chirps, and he turns to look at her, with interest in his eyes.

"What did you drink?"

"Okay, listen to me—I'm not a lightweight."

"What did you—"

"They tell you I'm a lightweight but I'm not a lightweight."

"What'd you drink, _Ally_?"

She gets shivers when he says her name; the way it rolls out of his tongue is sweet and sugary, she might just sickeningly fall in love with it. She still doesn't get it – the question. But she talks anyway because the moment's all she has and on Monday morning, she won't have the power to ever talk to him like this _again_.

"Smirnoff Ice, and Vodka."

"How many?"

"I think Elliot mixed two for me."

He chuckles under the yellow lights of the living room, something dazzling in the tinkle of his laughter that warms Ally's heart. She's so happy to be right here with him, because she knows – somewhere along the intoxicated dust of her mind – this will be the only chance she'll ever get. It's senior year and God knows the ticking time she has left and _she will never forgive herself_ if she just let him pass her by.

But plans don't go very well – it's not like she _ever_ had it all planned out _anyway_ – and he's being taken away by his _stupid_ friends. He doesn't even take a look back to see her one last time, and she thinks her heart drops but the alcohol made it so hard to care. He's probably with _stupid _Piper anyway with her blonde hair and sweet smile and _stupid_ nice personality—no wonder he _fucking_ fell in love with her.

The night fades into something more chaotic and she's up in the host's bedroom, trying to sober up – because spinning walls and almost falling down the stairs was never part of her plan and she thinks it's time to _stop_. She's already accidentally walked in on Piper and Austin making out and she doesn't know how much more the pounding of her head can take.

She sits on the bed, melancholy seeping through her chest and that skin tight dress she wore. There's something sad about the raving music thumping downstairs and her laying down alone this large bed made for two. She doesn't hear the click the door makes, nor does she notice the boy that walks in with his stupid maroon and white baseball shirt and blonde hair and brown eyes and _damn everything_.

"Hey."

She sits up in surprise and nearly falls off the bed upon seeing him.

"Hi."

"You okay now?"

"I'm getting there."

"That's good."

He smiles awkwardly and her head is screaming—_why the fuck are you right here?!_ She doesn't know what to do, so she just looks down on her painted nails of yellow and black. It's that awkward silence that's louder than the sounds their breaths make but feelings—for her—are going haywire all over the place and she doesn't know whether it's the oncoming hangover or the leftover alcohol that's making her _crave_ for the poison of his touch.

She doesn't notice him inching closer, but she does feel it when their fingertips touch. She thinks it's extremely ironic that the DJ decides to play a slow song right now because—_man would it be perfect for this moment_. But there was never anything romantic about Ben Howard's _Only Love_ – because the song is all about lust—if it's anything at all to her.

"I love this song."

She speaks from the back of her throat, a scratch in his voice that she can't tell turns him on. He moves in closer and it gets to the point the only thing left between them is the thin duvet that they let fall to the ground. And it's that searing kiss of the night that she remembers the most.

Guilt was never her friend—_until now_. She doesn't feel sorry at all that she's on a bed with her back against the wall, and his fingers roaming freely against her soft skin – even when she knows he's got a girlfriend waiting for him downstairs. All she thinks of is how great the gin on his tongue tasted and how much closer they should get.

She barely cares if for right now she's just a toy—he can use and throw her until she breaks, but she'll never give a _fuck_, ever—because she's enjoying the benefits of it all. And the good girl image is nothing more than a mirage of the past three years of high school. Because here she was with Austin Moon shamelessly kissing every inch of her neck, and the fluff of his hair feels good against the tips of her fingers—and for that moment, it was the only thing she's ever done right in her _entire_ life.

When they breakaway, he only has one thing to say.

"Not so shy _after all_, Dawson."

He leaves it at that. And she doesn't know where else to go or what else to do. Because God, did that kiss sober her up to the point—she actually _remembers_ Austin Moon is _not_ single. She wants to cry and pull out all her hair but it's hopeless. The deed is _done_ and she never wanted to be a homewrecker—_but she is_.

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><p><strong>AN:** I know, horrible. Cheating and all that, could be a very sensitive topic for many people, so I apologize about that. I'm not suggesting things like cheating is ever okay—right. I'm just being realistic; realistic in the sense that I know that there's more than just one way a cheated relationship ends up – this is just one of those least common ways. ANYWAY, I won't go on anymore, less I spoil it for you. I know what you're thinking—you probably think you know how this story will go. Well, think again. Anyway, see you next update – I promise it won't be long. It's Halloween break, you do the math. Goodnight – even though it's still blue skies and I'm in class whilst I write this, goodnight anyway. Btw, not beta'd and _yes_ you can get drunk on chugging down Smirnoff Ice—I've seen it happen.


	2. discothéque

_three_

**Summary: **If it was just one night of fading stars and loud music, with him—she'd do it all over again. Because alcoholic breaths and lungs filled with nicotine never did stop those close touches and almost kisses – _and neither did his girlfriend_. (three-parter, auslly)

**Prompt: **I went to a house party one Friday night and my God was it different from the world I'm so used to. None of these things happened, but the atmosphere really did inspire a lot of it.

**A/N: **Whilst the first chapter is inspired by the beautiful song _Nightingale_ by Demi Lovato – idk how you'll make the connection to that, but anyway – this is inspired by _Robbers_ and _Heart Out_ by The 1975 which is a rave within my classmates right now. I have this one guy classmate and him and his girlfriend remind me of Matt Healy and the girl on the _Robbers_ music video. It doesn't help that personality wise, they're the same as well. So, forgive this mess of a characterization. PS, this chapter solely exists to link the first chapter to the third. That's why it's so fast paced. The third will be more of an epilogue of some sort, but not really, and it'll be more detailed and focused on one situation and will tie in any loose ends left from this chapter. Writing style might vary this chapter, I'm sorry I'm experimenting.

**Disclaimer: **Don't own anything at all :)

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><p><strong>discoth<strong>**éque;**

He gets better, and she gets worse. Girlfriends do _tend_ to change their boys—and Piper _clearly_ had that effect on Austin. He's no longer just some delinquent that roams the school halls, looking for something—_someone_—to have a good time with. He's sweet – Ally bitterly admits – and holds Piper's hand, and kisses her chastely, and does his schoolwork. And no matter how much Ally wants to be the one to _change_ the way he saw things—she _can't_ be.

So she willingly forgives him – influenced by the ghost of his old self. And she never knew what was good about the _party life_, until she's had a taste of it—of course. Then she finds herself, somehow no better than those girls she so feared to be _one of these days_. But she's not at all into the scene of drinking and smoking – rather the comfort it offers her. Because she thinks she's over the guy and the taste of his lips, but no matter that—_everything in her still craves more of him_.

He's in the bliss of falling in love, and she is too—with the marijuana between her fingers and random boys with a smoker's breath. She spends half of senior year sneaking out her bedroom window and riding shotgun on Chevy trucks. She likes to think she's made for the night life with the wind messing up her hair and the city lights blinding her – but she's not. Piles of homework come and go, all left undone, and any spare moment she has outside of this newfound lifestyle is spent _sleeping away_ the truth of Austin's relationship.

So when she wakes up one day _regretting_ the night before, she sort of wants to cry. Except, she doesn't think she can because all the weed in the world has left her heart spoiled and rotten. So she gets dressed, pain between her legs and eyes burning red. She's never wanted to have amnesia before – but right now seems so much like a good idea.

"Sweetie, stay. Don't you want a replay?"

"No."

She's used to the short shorts and loose crop tops, so she doesn't care enough if the pale of her legs shine with bruises from the night before. She leaves the stranger's house with the only thing she hears are songs loud on her playlist and _my God_ does she wish to just be that girl all _indie_ bands would love to write about.

When she gets to town she's all about her tarnished mascara and cheeks caked in foundation. Her body is perfectly silicon thin so the boys that pass her by don't care about the messy hair and the unruly clothes—as long as she's willing to give them everything they want, _who the fuck cares about everything else_.

"Ally Dawson?"

When he says her name, it's something brand new and exotic. It's been months since they've actually talked because he's too busy being the prince for _that damn beautiful Piper_, that all other things just—_kind of fades_.

"Hey, Austin Moon."

Her smile is so sloppy, and he knows about her _current_ reputation. He knows that one night out _absolutely destroyed _her but he doesn't think it's anything to do with that silent kiss on that _goddamn bed she can't fucking forget about_ because he's as oblivious to her heart as she is to his.

"Want me to take you home?"

"No."

"Do you want something to eat."

"Yes."

"Let's go."

When he grabs her wrist and leads her away, she doesn't even dare to think about how acidic his touch on her has become. He's being nice—gentleman as always, opening the door and letting her in first, and pushing in her chair—which is nothing unusual for Austin Moon. He feels the bones through her skin and it makes him shiver, because Ally was always a slim girl but she was never _this_ bony before.

"Do you want the McNuggets?"

"Okay."

She doesn't really know what she wants. But if it's free food offered by _this_ guy, then she'd take it anyway. Because she's so goddamn in love with him by now—she'd probably drink a gallon of mercury if he just offered it to her.

"How are you?"

"I'm fine."

"That's—"

"And you and Piper?"

"Oh, we're good. She's great."

She doesn't miss that small twinkle in his eyes and the softness that's there. She wants to kick him under the table and just runaway but, _she can't_. She'd be naked before she lets her feelings ever be _exposed_.

"That's good."

"I got my driving license."

"Congratulations."

"Do you need a ride home?"

"No, I'll walk."

"You don't have to."

"_You_ don't have to."

"Just so I can be sure that—"

"Fuck off, Austin. What the _fuck_ do you care anyway?"

"I don't know—maybe the fact that _this isn't Ally Dawson_."

"And _how the fuck_ would you even know?"

"Because I do."

"_How_?"

"Because _I just do_."

She'd never know that he spent all of the last year watching over her – and all the little things that got him so captivated. And he'd never know, that had he just been _half brave_ enough, he could've saved her from the trainwreck she's made of herself and this dirt on her face.

So they eat in silence. And maybe it's crazy, but he thinks his feelings never did find closure, _after all_. Because here she sits right in front of him, an incredible mistake with streaky make-up and a fractured heart, and she still looks so _goddamn beautiful_. And he thinks, everything she does just makes him fall half in love with her all over again.

"Piper's great."

"She is."

"She's so nice."

"I know."

"She's the kind of girl _The 1975_ would sing about."

He's not really sure about that. But he doesn't comment. Because he can't seem to hear the insecurity straining her voice, nor does he see the hollow spark of green in Ally's eyes.

"Do you want to go out?"

He says so suddenly, and her face almost lights up. It's nine am in the morning and she's not sure if any clubs or bars will be open but, there's a serious contort on his face—and she gives in. Because she's said it before, she'll say it again, _she'd do anything for him, if only he asks her to_.

"Okay."

It would seem that Austin had _a lot_ more in mind than just _going out_. He takes her to New York, and by the time they've packed and passed by all their pit stops, they're trailing across the glorious movie city with it's beautiful Christmas lights and cemented sidewalks and glassy skyscrapers. They have time to spare before all the clubs open up and they spend the day walking along the congested streets and hiding under fire escapes and dark alleyways. They share a roll and Austin breathes in as if it's his first time ever – and it may as well be.

When the dark falls, and the night comes alive, they go into bars and drink as much as their wallets could take. The music is so loud they forget the lyrics exist because all that surrounds them is the electricity of the bass and the tech of the keyboard. Ally sees, in her somewhat distorted perception of the world, that this life of a discotheque is beautiful in it's fading lights and monochrome beats—but _never_ in the morals that live within those who enjoyed it. And she wants to stop. Because she _never_ stopped caring about her grades and obligations.

"Austin." Her voice hoarse and rough, fighting against the amplified beat people are dancing to, she tugs at the blonde and pulls him aside. "Let's go home."

And he likes that she finally sees reason. So he agrees. With their fuel tank close to empty and their clothes scented with spilled wine and social smoke, they drive away from the beauty that is _New York City_.

"I think I've had enough."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"I think so too."

When they get home, she's grounded for life. But it doesn't even matter. Because she's ready to throw away the short dresses and tattered shorts, and get back to her high-waisted skirts and pastel cardigans that flourished with the innocence she once had. She doesn't skip classes anymore, and her teachers trust her again. It takes a while before she stops smoking and she figures—_not everything's that easy, anyway_.

And on the month of February, she's back to good ol' Ally Dawson. And Austin and Piper breaks up.

"So the social this year is on Valentine's day. And if you want to drink alcohol, you're required to bring your own as a contribution."

"You don't want to be that one guy who comes crashing into the party and taking everyone else's drinks without bringing your own, you know."

"Trish, you did that last year."

"Well, I've learned since then."

Ally laughs at the light hearted banter between her friends, closing her locker, as she props her shoulder bag properly.

"Sorry guys, I don't think I'll be going."

"Aw, come on Ally! We never get to have school socials—this may be the first _and_ last we'll ever have."

"Yeah, Ethan had to pull major strings just to get the principal to allow us to have one!"

"Thank God Kira got her dad to finally oblige."

"I just, I'm not really into that whole scene anymore."

"You don't even have to drink—just go. Please?"

"Yeah Ally, please?"

"Okay."

So she goes. Conservative red dress, hair slightly curled and just little specs of make-up on her face, she goes. She brings her own small bottle of water, the only contribution she could ever make – because she's finally sober and the struggle to get to where she is right now was something she'd never want to experience ever again.

Dez and Trish take the dance floor, strong tequila in the dance moves they make. And everyone enjoys a good time. Some sinners are smoking in the toilets and Ally remembers the time she used to be one of them. And despite claiming the corner as her spot for the night, she still feels happy.

"Ally Dawson, not drinking? What a surprise."

His playful voice is distinct to her from a mile away. And she laughs that innocent laugh she once had and nearly, completely, lost.

"Austin Moon, not dancing with Piper, what a shock."

"Hey, rumors are true, I'm a single man now."

"Does this mean you'll go back to your old ways where your best friend is Vodka and you fly off from female to female."

"Maybe. Then things can be back to normal again."

"As if that's ever possible now."

"It could be."

_Robbers_ by The 1975, and Austin thinks it's the perfect slow song. So gently, he takes Ally's hand into his, and leads her away to the middle of the dance floor. And they dance, hand on her shoulder, head on his chest.

"I don't think you're real."

"Yeah? I don't think you're real either."

She laughs, and further buries her head onto him. And it's somewhat like a mutual understanding. The need to confess was never there because despite the mellow steps they make as they dance on that same spot, the urgency on the way they held onto each other does not disappear.

"You're pretty great."

"Yeah?"

"If my career as a singer ever skyrockets, I'll remember you."

"No, really."

"I'll make a band up, sing indie songs about you, and these eyes, and these lips, this past year and that night in New York."

"That sounds great."

"Hadn't than been a dream of yours?"

"I guess it has."

They don't make that cliché move of a kiss in the moment. Nor do they acknowledge a relationship with each other. But with his hand on her waist and nose buried on down her neck, he breathes in everything she is, and bites the flesh beneath her creamy skin. And for the first time, Ally thinks—_goddamn, the alcohol really does ruin you after all._

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><p><strong>AN:** I have nothing to say. I hope you enjoyed it? Hahaha, please drop a review you if you liked it And if you don't, criticism is okay too—no flames, let's play nice now and be polite. PS, the idea behind Ally's _dream_ of being one of those girls indie bands sing about is how a lot of the things people find _immoral_ has been romanticized by the media – specially with a band as scandalous as The 1975. Matt Healy has no filter in his mouth and God that's admirable. But the point I'm trying to get across is Ally feels the need to belong to this weird bourgeois (god, I love that word, if you haven't yet noticed it) lifestyle in order for guys to like her – specially Austin Moon. So just like the songs _Robbers_ and _Heart Out_, Ally wants to be the girl focused and written about by bands like these. Okay, I have no way of explaining this but, that's the best I can put it to words. I hope no one takes any offense in what I have written – personally, I'm not trying to offend anyone because your value as a person is not determined by these _immoral_ perceptions of the world. However, it is written in Ally's point of view and to Ally, she's not cut out for this lifestyle after all because how she sees it is different from how those who live in it sees it. You feel me?


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